


Unmarked and Intact

by Meridians_of_Madness



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Genderfuck, Gentle Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Other, Romance, Sexual Roleplay, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Meridians_of_Madness
Summary: Aziraphale realizes that he's not the only one with a slight virginity kink._Written for the kink meme prompt foundhere.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 219
Collections: Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Unmarked and Intact

It had started, as so many things did, after the bookstore lights were dimmed, the closed sign was hung and a bottle of something good had been emptied rather mercilessly. And as usual, it was Crowley that had been the instigator. He was good at it, instigating, and even in these long and lovely days after the Apocawon't, he hadn't given it up.

“Your lot,” Crowley scoffed, “you and your positive _kink_ for unexplored territory. What kind of colonial nonsense is that, anyway? First to touch it makes it yours or something? That's not how it _works_ , and frankly-”

“I'm sorry, Crowley, but are we still talking about virginity or have you decided you need to lecture me on empire again?”

“No... no, I think you've learned your lesson about empire ages ago, haven't you?”

He had, back when Alexander was a lad, but he shook his head.

“All right, so we're not talking about... impromptu land claims and the eradication of whole ways of life...”

“Right. Right. We were talking about virginity, and why your lot seems so blessed fond.”

Aziraphale took a demure sip from his glass, buying himself some time to respond.

“I don't suppose I can say that you're wrong,” he said reluctantly. “We did make rather a point of it with the last virgin that came our way, though I'd like to have it noted that I had nothing to do with it...That was all Gabriel, unfortunately.”

Crowley shuddered dramatically.

“Catch anyone letting him into their knickers once he opens his mouth.... but yeah, you can't deny it. Something about the concept gets you all hot and bothered, doesn't it?”

Aziraphale considered, downed the rest of his drink. Nodded.

Crowley stared.

“What? I genuinely thought that I would have to argue harder to make you admit it, whip out some diagrams maybe-”

“Please do not.”

“-and here you are just copping to it. Well, filthy little angel? What've you got to say for yourself?”

“I am _not_ filthy,” Aziraphale said, and then he drew in a quick breath as Crowley slithered into his lap, his legs sprawled every which way, but his arms firmly around Aziraphale's neck and his eyes just six inches away from Aziraphale's own.

“I bet I know what it was,” he whispered confidentially.

“ _Do_ you?” Aziraphale asked dryly, and then he shivered in spite of himself when Crowley leaned forward to put his lips right next to Aziraphale's ear. His soft breath sent a nervy shudder through Aziraphale's frame, and somehow his hands landed on Crowley's hips to steady himself.

“Yes, I do. I think that you like the surprise. I think that you like popping that seal like you tore down the walls of Admah...watching that pain and that confusion turn to pleasure, knowing that it's up to you, because the person you're fucking doesn't know any better...”

Aziraphale stared.

“No. Crowley, that's not it at all. Where did _that_ come from, is that what you-?”

“Angel! No! We're talking about you right now. So it's not that,” Crowley coughed. “What is it then? What's your interest in despoiling the innocence of some sweet inexperienced thing?”

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully, though he did not miss the faint pink blush on Crowley's cheeks or the soft and hushed way he had spoken when accusing Aziraphale of a virginity kink.

“I suppose you have at least part of it. I like to see it done right, I always have. I know there's nothing on its own profound or special about someone's first time with a- I mean, how do you even _define_ it? The definition changes so often, and I have known plenty of very lovely people who would qualify despite-”

Crowley waved him off, dismissing some 6000 years of patriarchal, reclaimed, revised and scholarly discourse.

“Oh I'm not here to argue definitions, angel,” he said with a grin. “I'm thinking, cock, cunt, oh-no-will-it-hurt, please-go-easy...”

Aziraphale took a closer look at Crowley, and then sobered himself up with a snap of his fingers.

“Sober now, please,” he said firmly, and with a sigh, Crowley accommodated him. He was still sprawled in Aziraphale's lap, but there was something less careless about it now, something almost tense. Crowley wouldn't look at him, which was sometimes a bad sign, but it was always a reminder to Aziraphale to pay attention. It meant he was coming close to something important.

He put his arms around Crowley, jostling him gently.

“Talk to me, please,” he said, and then added “I want to give you what you like best, love. You have to tell me what that is.”

Crowley took a deep breath and then leaned against Aziraphale, collapsing into him like a toopling tower.

“Just sounds nice, doesn't it?” he asked, partially muffled against Aziraphale's shoulder. “First time out, maybe a bit of pain and a bit of blood that someone soothes you over, even if it doesn't hurt tremendously, someone looking out for you, someone making sure that... that you're not going to be all fucked up over it. Someone making sure that you're okay.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Crowley, has anyone-”

“No. Fuck, no. Nothing like _that._ I've told you before, Hell doesn't truck much with sex, thinks it's all kind of gross. And you know I like sex, and you know _how_ I like it, it's just...”

He trailed off, and Aziraphale smiled.

“It's just that you have a... _sensual interest in the virginal state_?”

“Well, not anymore, because you had to say it like that...”

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Aziraphale murmured. “Should I have said that you want to _get your cherry popped_?”

“Oh my _fucking-_ Angel, what the hell kind of TV have you been watching?”

“You know very well that I do not watch the television,” Aziraphale lied. “Would you prefer I say _losing your innocence?”_

“You are the worst. You are the worst angel She ever created, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“ _Staining the wainscoting?”_

“Now you're just making things up!”

“Yes, you are right. I apologize. I'll stop-”

“ _Thank_ you!”

“-so you can tell me what has got you so very red.”

Crowley made as if to get up, and then he let Aziraphale pull him back into his lap. He stammered a bit, and then he shrugged defensively.

“Just what I told you. Sounds nice. And I've had dozens of first times, but I've never bothered with it like that, you know, with the hymen and the fuss and all. Maybe... maybe it'd be nice. With the right person.”

It was, Aziraphale realized, the third time Crowley had said _nice,_ and that... well, that meant something. He considered his options, went back and forth a few times, and then reached up to brush his knuckles very gently over Crowley's cheek.

“Would you... that is, may I be the right person?”

Crowley was still just a half-second too long to pretend he didn't care, and he looked down, his hands knotting in his lap.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot.”

*

Aziraphale reached for the doorknob, paused, considered, and then knocked on the bedroom door. There was a rustling sound, a creak of bed springs, and then a surprisingly small voice telling him to come in.

He did so, realizing that Crowley had gone in for some changes since closeting himself upstairs that afternoon. He was still angular, bony and sharp-featured, and of course the hair, though long enough now to brush his shoulders, was the same red, but now there was something indefinably softer to him, a bit more hip and unless Aziraphale missed his guess, the curve of small breasts pushing against the thin fabric of Crowley's silk nightgown.

“Good evening, darling,” he said, still taking it all in, and Crowley gave him a smile, not more than a quirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Heya, angel. Like the look?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said warmly. “I always do. Though I should ask, _are_ you Crowley tonight?”

Crowley nodded, frowned, shook his head, and then shrugged.

“Crowley's fine. Guess 'm feeling girly. That all right?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale repeated. “It always is, you know that.”

It wasn't a reprimand, but Crowley looked down, shoulders slightly hunched. She seemed to draw in on herself, folding up, and Aziraphale mentally changed his calibration for the evening. Crowley hadn't been joking when he said that Aziraphale knew what he liked and how he liked it, and sometimes what he liked was rough enough to make Aziraphale wince. And then sometimes what she liked was something not too far from this, though, not to make a rather indelicate joke, this was unexplored territory.

“Are you all right, my dear?” he asked, half-expecting Crowley to roll her eyes at him. Instead she nodded.

“Nervous, a little,” she mumbled, and Aziraphale felt something inside him melt. Oh, the _darling._

“May I come sit on the bed next to you?” he inquired.

“It's your bed, you can do whatever you like,” she said, not looking up.

Aziraphale didn't move from the door, and eventually she looked up at him with a touch of wariness in her honeyed eyes.

“... What are you doing?”

“What I like,” he said with a trace of a smile.

“What's that?” Crowley a few hours ago would have said it sharply, or flirtatiously, or with a taunting tone. This one looked like she might go out the window if he answered incorrectly.

It was fine. Aziraphale had always thought that he would test well if he was put to it.

“Hoping that you'll tell me it's all right to come sit next to you.”

That startled a soft laugh from her, and she nodded, still not looking at him.

“All right. Come here.”

He gave her plenty of space when he settled on the other side of the bed.

“Will you come here?” he asked, and he was pleased when she came to sit next to him as he leaned against the headboard, letting him tuck her under his arm and close to his body. He didn't think that Crowley had actually made herself smaller for the evening, but she _felt_ smaller, breakable and vulnerable in a way she so seldom was.

“Are you all right?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley nodded, leaning her cheek against his shoulder.

“Of course I am,” she said, sounding a bit more like herself. “It's only a bit of blood. I can deal with a bit of blood.”

“But it's not just a bit of blood, is it?”

“Come again?”

Aziraphale nuzzled the side of Crowley's neck, breathing in the dry scent of her under the faint hint of floral perfume. She wasn't human, neither of them were, but they were human enough, he thought, to occasionally think that they were above human things. It was usually a mistake to do so.

“You're not after pain tonight, love,” he said quietly. “I know what you're like when you're after pain, and this was never about pain. You're after comfort.”

Crowley winced at that, and she might have shrunk away from him if he didn't have his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close.

“Don't...” she said helplessly.

“And there's nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he said. “Only say that I can. That you want me to. That's all you have to do, just want it, and I will give it to you.”

He hesitated, because when he put it like that, there was no escaping the fact that this was his fantasy as well, probably his fantasy first, and it wasn't fair to make her the only one vulnerable here.

“Please let me have you,” Aziraphale murmured humbly. “Please. I want to take such good care of you. I promise I'll be as careful as I can, because I love you, and darling, I want this to be so very good for you.”

Suddenly she was in his arms, curled up tight next to his body with her hands fisted in the fabric of his jumper. Her kiss was soft, nothing tentative about it, and in the kiss, Aziraphale could read how very different tonight would be.

Crowley usually kissed like a house on fire, hot and urgent and heedless, unwilling to take prisoners and possibly with no survivors. There was something gone about Crowley now, uncoordinated, not clumsy but too eager and too needy, showing everything in the first wild rush as if she had never learned to be cautious, and Aziraphale's arms came up to hold her close to him.

“Promise?” she whispered against his mouth. “Don't... don't...”

“I won't,” he said quietly. “I would never.”

He nuzzled at her lips until she parted them, tracing the tip of his tongue over first her upper lip and then her lower. She tasted good, she always did, and Aziraphale almost forgot himself when Crowley nervously and shyly suckled on his tongue. He made a pleased sound, and she pulled back, eyes wide, and hand covering her mouth.

“Was it bad?” she asked anxiously. “Should I not have...?”

“No,” Aziraphale said, pulling her back against him. “No. It was so good, darling. You're so very good...”

She smiled at that, no flinching at all, and she let him kiss her again, gentler this time. He kept the kisses light on her mouth, and she drew her breath sharply when he moved to the side of her throat, up behind her ear and then down to the crook of her neck. She squirmed, and he pulled back.

“Ticklish?”

“No... no, it's good.”

“Good.”

She let him ease her down onto the sheets, and when she felt stiff in his arms, he only kissed her again, going over the same places again until she relaxed. When he swept his hand from her side down to her hip, the silk of her nightgown was as warm as her skin under his touch, and she murmured softly when he lifted the strap on her shoulder to kiss the skin underneath.

“Can I take this off?” he asked. He enjoyed watching her enjoy hesitating.

“What if you don't like what you see?” she said in a rush.

“I'll love it,” Aziraphale promised her, bending down to brush his lips over hers. “I will. I love you so, and I love every part of you.”

She didn't respond, and Aziraphale kissed the freckles on her shoulder, her arms, the tender skin inside her elbow, her sharp collarbones.

“I love every inch of you,” he murmured. “I love your skin, I love your neck, your shoulders. I love your heartbeat, your hands, the way you breathe... “

She didn't need to believe him. He did, and her hands came up to tangle in his hair, tightening before she remembered herself and loosening self-consciously.

“You can,” she murmured, and he smiled against her throat, rewarding her with a soft lick that made her gasp.

“Thank you, darling,” Aziraphale said, and he reached for the hem of her nightgown, tugging it neatly over her head and letting it fall to the floor. He smiled at the way her hands came up to cover her breasts, and he took her wrists gently, laying them down by her sides.

“You have absolutely nothing to hide, my own,” he murmured, and he leaned down to nuzzle first one small peak and then the other. It was hardly the first time Crowley wanted breasts, and Aziraphale used his previous knowledge to possibly unfair but wholly satisfactory advantage. He knew how sensitive they were, how even the lightest pass of his fingertips over their sides could make Crowley squirm, and he took his time, kissing and licking the skin around and over them before finally closing his mouth over one nipple.

“Oh! No, stop...!”

Aziraphale rolled back immediately, leaving one hand on Crowley's hip because he couldn't bear to let her go when she sounded so panicked.

“Too much?” he asked, because she had half risen from the bed, her hair a bird's nest and her eyes wild.

“I... I...”

She was blushing furiously, biting her lip hard enough that he was surprised she didn't bleed, and his heart ached at how afraid she looked.

“Come here.”

Crowley as he usually was would argue and protest and stretch things out to be sure that Aziraphale really wanted a thing. Tonight, she only threw herself into Aziraphale's arms, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Sorry...”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said soothingly, stroking her bare back and reassuring himself that she was all right. Aziraphale was slightly amused to find that he had to make an effort to keep his wings in. Right now, nothing felt more natural than flaring them out and mantling them over Crowley until she stopped shivering. He contented himself with burying his face in her hair and holding her more tightly.

“Can you tell me what the matter is, darling?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, not looking up.

“Makes me want to jump out of my skin,” she muttered. “Felt like a lot.”

“Too much?”

Crowley thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head. To his pleasure, she lay down again, curled on her side, peering up at him with those lovely golden eyes.

“Can we try again?”

Aziraphale smiled, nodding, but a hand on his knee stopped him from lying down next to her.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, her voice firmer now. “I want to see you, too.”

“Of course, my darling.”

Aziraphale stood and stripped efficiently, aware the entire time of her avid gaze on him, the way it flickered up and down his body as if seeing it for the first time. He smiled at the way her pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and then at the slightly guilty jump when he turned back to her.

This time, there was no hesitation before she reached for his hand, pulling him back to bed to stretch out beside her.

“All right, my dear?”

Crowley hummed as she stroked her hand down the center of his chest, drawing a soft pleased sound from him. He would have caught her up in his arms, but with just a bit of pressure, she pushed him back down, levering herself up on her elbow to look down at him, or rather at his body.

“Pretty,” she said, stroking her way down his chest.

“Thank you.”

Crowley had an intense stare; it was another reason he wore the sunglasses in public. People might not have noticed his serpentine eyes as he walked by quickly, but they certainly would if he gave them an intent unblinking stare. Right now though, Crowley's interest was softer even if it was unblinking, and she stroked her way down to his thighs, skirting his stirring cock a little nervously.

“Can I –?”

“Of course. Only if you like.”

Aziraphale let out a long breath as she traced the very tips of her fingers over his cock and then lower across his balls. Her touch was cautious, as if despite his permission, she wasn't sure that she was allowed.

“Does that feel good?” she whispered, and Aziraphale made a low agreeable sound that turned into a soft hiss as she wrapped her hand around his cock.

“Do you like this?” Crowley asked with just the faintest tease in her voice. She knew very well he did, and Aziraphale gave her a knowing smile but it let pass.

“I do, very much. Only... can I show you?”

At her nod, he curled his hand over hers, tightening it over the shaft and drawing it up and down. He watched her eyes grow wider as it hardened in her grasp, and with his free hand, he tilted her chin up so he could kiss her again.

At some point, still kissing, they ended up on their sides, Crowley tucked against him and her hand still working at his cock until he pulled it away.

“Did you not -”

“This is going to be over very soon if you keep that up,” he told her, slightly breathless, “and I'm not ready for this to be over yet.”

He kissed her, starting with her mouth and descending down her throat, paying especial attention to the soft sighs when he nuzzled the base of her neck and her collarbones. When it seemed as if she might flutter off the bed with the sensations he was arousing in her, he grounded her with his arm slung over her hips, warm and heavy and easy.

“Such a beautiful girl,” he murmured. “ _Thank_ you. Thank you for wanting me. So perfect for me.”

She made a softly inarticulate sound, squirming up against him, and it turned into a whimper as he nuzzled her breasts, setting first lips and then, ever so gently, teeth against her pink nipples.

Her hands landed in his hair, long fingers twining through the curls. He was ready to pull back if she tugged, but they only twitched in his hair, holding him close and ever so slightly tugging him down. Well, he could take a hint, and he kissed his way down her belly, nuzzling briefly at the gingerish hair between her legs before parting her thighs. There was a renewed tension to her now, and he glanced up at her attentively.

“Do you need me to -”

“Just need you,” Crowley whispered raggedly. Her eyes were shut and there was a high blush on her cheeks, her white teeth sunk into her lower lip. The sight of her like that made him want to do all sorts of things to her, and he hid a sharp smile in a kiss to her thigh.

“I'm going to make you feel so very good, darling. That's all I want to do.”

Aziraphale had loved this particular activity since people started doing it. What wasn't there to like? It was someone he adored spread out for him like something good to eat, it was someone mewling and gasping as he worked over their most intimate flesh with his mouth, his tongue and ever so carefully his teeth. It was good, so very good, and he lost himself for a while, laving the flat of his tongue carefully over Crowley's clit and then dipping lower with his fingers to explore her entrance. She tasted good, ever so good that he wanted to eat her for hours, but then her body tightened underneath his hands, her fingers closing hard in his hair.

“I- I can't-”

“Of _course_ you can, darling,” which may have been a touch more of a bastard thing to say than this situation called for, but it had the desired effect, permission and command both as Crowley thrashed under him, trembling and shaking and drawing in great lungfuls of air.

Aziraphale kept his mouth still on her until the shivers had died down, and then he shifted up to take her in his arms again. Crowley shifted uneasily at his still-hard cock, but Aziraphale ignored it as he brushed her sweat-soaked hair back from her face.

“Good?” he asked softly, and she nodded.

“If that's all you want tonight, if that's all you're ready for-”

“No,” she said insistently, and Aziraphale caught a glimpse of the real Crowley peeking through, eager, impatient and absolutely unwilling to be denied her fun. Aziraphale hid a grin, and cupped his hand between Crowley's legs.

“You're very tight there, sweetheart,” he said seriously. “It may hurt, and the last thing I want is to hurt you.”

It was a game. It was only a game, but when she looked up at him like that, it was so easy to forget that. Thank Somebody, really, that they had never met before the Garden. If Crowley had batted those eyes at him during the great rebellion, well.

He found himself threading his fingers through Crowley's hair, pulling her closer to him.

“Don't let me hurt you, please,” he whispered against her ear, and that made her cling to him almost frantically. Suddenly, it was a little bit realer than it had been a moment before, and he absolutely hated the idea of ever bringing harm to the being in his arms, of doing anything that might make her cry. Aziraphale had to remind himself that that was rather the point of this exercise, and you couldn't get to the comfort without the hurt. Crowley would be beyond irritated with him if he showed the white feather now.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley deeply as he moved over her, sliding one knee between hers to urge them wider. She made a soft mewling sound, half eager and half concerned, and Aziraphale imagined drinking the cry from her mouth. It would taste sugary and bitter at once, like Crowley herself.

He barely breathed when he reached down to take hold of his cock, lightly teasing the lips of her cunt with the head. She was beautifully wet and open from his mouth and her own arousal, and when he pressed up against her clit, Crowley buried her face in his shoulder.

“Please,” she said, and Aziraphale kissed her.

“Tell me if it's too much, darling,” he murmured. “I'll stop for you. I don't want it if you don't, I swear to you.”

The way Crowley shivered told him he might have pushed it farther than she liked. That was another scene, one that could leave her utterly wrecked, and she wasn't ready for that yet. Aziraphale nuzzled her hair, letting her quiet, and then he pressed himself inside her with one long thrust.

He could feel the difference immediately. All the pliancy went out of her, and her nails dug into his arms. Her shoulders came up, birdlike, but she could never fly away with his bulk weighting her down, his cock sheathed so tightly in her body. The sensation of her fit to him so perfectly sent a rush of need through his body, and yes, a part of it was how hurt and small she was and how despite the way she shuddered, she still clung to him.

“Crowley?”

A soft whimper was her only response, and it went straight through him. He kept himself perfectly still, refusing to move despite how good Crowley felt aching around him.

“Brilliant girl, my lovely brilliant girl,” he murmured in her ear. “Please. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, are you all right?”

Crowley was still so long that Aziraphale was actually beginning to worry, and then she uttered a soft shivery sigh.

“Hurts,” she whispered against his shoulder, and Aziraphale curled one hand over the back of her skull, keeping her as close to him as he could because oh, he loved her so.

“I know, darling, I'm so sorry. But I promise, it'll pass. I won't move until you tell me it's all right, poor girl, poor little sweetheart...”

They were still like that for a bit, Aziraphale dropping small sweet kisses along the side of Crowley's face and her throat. The tenderness of the moment cut at him in a lovely way, as well as the odd perversity of it. As easily as he could feel the geomagnetic field or the secret rivers of London, he could feel the low, bright pain that radiated from her body where they joined. It was a sensual thing, but sharp like a paper-cut, and underneath him, Crowley grew more and less tense by turns, fighting her urge to push him away.

“I want you so very much, dear,” Aziraphale whispered in her ear. “Can you bear this?”

He had once seen Crowley take a bayonet to the lung and leap up again laughing. Of course Crowley could bear it. That wasn't the question at all, not really, and Crowley sniffled slightly.

Aziraphale shifted back so he could wipe Crowley's tears away with the pad of his thumb, nuzzling at the tracks they left behind.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated again. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you...”

“Want you,” she whispered, the words barely more than a breath against his skin, and Aziraphale genuinely shuddered at that. If Crowley was here for comfort, he was here for this, that hushed murmur of need and trust and love that didn't even think how it could be denied.

“Anything you want,” he promised fervently, and he started, slowly and smoothly, to move.

She still wasn't quite ready, even if she didn't know it, and Aziraphale, against his own cresting need, resolved to be kind. There was still something tense in her face and in the way she clung to him, and it seemed to take forever before he had withdrawn all the way to her entrance only to surge back inside her.

Crowley made an inarticulate sound at that, and Aziraphale reassured her with more kisses, promises that they could stop whenever she liked, as soon as she liked. She relaxed slowly by degrees, and when she finally opened her mouth to kiss him back, Aziraphale moaned with pent-up need, kissing her perhaps a little more savagely than such a sweet girl could bear.

If he was forgetting himself, Crowley was as well. She wrapped her legs around his hips, tugging him even closer. It was hardly something an innocent would do, but Aziraphale obeyed, canting his hips so he was thrusting up into Crowley, letting Crowley split herself over him and taking him deep.

For a while, there was no fantasy at all, just the pleasure of burying himself in the person he loved best in all the world, getting almost as close as it was possible to get, positively drinking the cries from her lips as she took him inside her completely.

“Please, please,” Crowley whimpered, turning her face away, and Aziraphale paused, a little stricken at how helpless she sounded.

“My dear, are you all right?” he asked anxiously, and she looked up at him with melting gold eyes.

“I need more, _please_ ,” Crowley said and that plea shot straight to the core of him, sending a rising tide of pleasure straight through his body that he knew he was going to be helpless to stop.

In the moment before he toppled over that edge, he reached out using some rather angelic trickery and ran invisible fingers through her sensory cortex, past her hypothalamus and thalamus before flooding her with endorphins and dopamine for good measure. The result was immediate, and she tightened almost painfully hard around him, throwing her head back in shock and surprise as the pleasure surged over her.

As he came, Aziraphale clung tight to her quivering body, no longer sure what he was whispering into her ear. That he would always love her, certainly. That he wanted her to feel so good, definitely. There were other things as well, thanking her, praising her bravery, telling her he would never hurt her again, it was just this once, he promised, were still a touch less playful than he might have preferred, but well, it was Crowley, and he would never regret anything that gave Crowley one extra bit of pleasure.

They came blinking back to life a while later, and Aziraphale carefully pulled away from Crowley, still gentle, still possessed of a need to care for her in a way that felt tender and new.

“Nice, very nice, angel,” Crowley said in something like her normal voice, but there was still something raw about it that made Aziraphale pause.

“Thank you,” he said. “Will you stay right there?”

Crowley tilted her head and nodded, watching as he rose from the bed to fetch a warm damp cloth.

“Here, love, spread your legs for me.”

Crowley licked her lips, somewhere between innocence and her usual lovely lechery, and propped herself up her elbows as she obeyed.

There was just the smallest bit of blood staining the crease of her thighs and her pouting well-used lips, and Aziraphale let out a slow breath. He touched the cloth to her flesh, letting her shiver before he started to gently wash her clean.

“Was I too rough, darling?”

She shook her head, a surprising blush on her cheeks.

“Felt good,” she whispered, and Aziraphale felt as if the sun had come out.

“Good,” he said, and when he kissed her, it didn't matter in the least who she was or what she knew; all he could be was perfectly gentle and perfectly kind and perfectly hers.


End file.
